


The Fabric of Your Flesh

by heckalotta



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Body Horror, But no major character death, But not quite like you're used to, Horror, M/M, Monsters, One Shot, Semi-Graphic Transformation, Werewolf Keith (Voltron), Werewolves, YES finally I can use that tag, also it's Halloween season, i had to post something spooky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-19
Updated: 2018-10-19
Packaged: 2019-08-04 05:55:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16341044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heckalotta/pseuds/heckalotta
Summary: There’s a shed in the back yard that Keith absolutely hates.The bungalow he and Lance live in is serviceable enough, and with Lance’s added décoré, well, it’s downright homey. It’s in a private area, surrounded by forest, sure to keep strangers away due to its sheer remoteness.Lance mourns their lack of neighbors, but on nights like these, Keith inevitably reminds him that their isolation is for the best.





	The Fabric of Your Flesh

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Sophie for beta reading this, and the _lovely_ comments! ILY!  
>     
> Hi there mad lads, make sure you've heeded the tags before reading this. I don't want people to feel wildly out of their comfort zone while reading.
> 
> Oh, also, the title is from [ Howl](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JZweDwbJ_Ic) by Florence + the Machine.
> 
> Anyways, enjoy!
> 
>  
> 
>   
> _Note [10/20/18]: The way I worded some things/grammatical/technical errors were really bugging me so I fixed it up a bit ;0_  
>   
> 

There’s a shed in the back yard that Keith absolutely hates.

The bungalow he and Lance live in is serviceable enough, and with Lance’s added décoré, well, it’s downright homey. It’s in a private area, surrounded by forest, sure to keep strangers away due to its sheer remoteness. Lance mourns their lack of neighbors, but on nights like these, Keith inevitably reminds him that their isolation is for the best.

They’re both in the shack, Lance fixing the chains raising from the cement floor onto Keith’s wrists and ankles. Despite the action seeming cruel at first glance, Lance is nothing but gentle when handling Keith’s limbs.

“I really wish you’d go to Hunk’s for the night,” Keith says, not unkindly.

“Babe, we’ve done this a million times,” Lance says, preoccupied with the heavy cuff he’s affixing to Keith’s right wrist. “I’m perfectly safe at home.” Keith doesn’t comment as he watches Lance move on to his left wrist. Already, Keith feels like he’s twitching, itching in his skin. He kind of wants Lance to move away, out of arm’s reach, but he _really_ wants Lance closer. In a sort of knee-jerk reaction to those conflicting truths, Keith yanks his now-bound left arm out of Lance’s grip. Surely, if the shed had windows, Keith would see the sky reflecting the gold in the evening sun.

To anyone less experienced with Keith’s moods as the full moon rises, the gesture would be interpreted as rude. Lance, however, understands the movement for the warning it is.

“Soon, huh?” he asks. The only response Keith offers is a throaty noise. The itch has become more persistent, and will soon turn into a bone-breaking ache. Lance grabs the chains and gives a firm tug, ensuring their strength.

“Ankles good to go?” Lance asks. Keith nods. Lance sighs, and his determined face falls. “I wish you’d let me bring you something soft while you’re in here. That floor can’t be good for your back.”

Keith almost laughs. Yeah, the _floor_ is the demon that haunts his spine in all of this.

“I’ll be fine,” he says instead. “Make sure you bolt the door on your way out.” Lance sighs again, but this time it sounds more weary than exasperated. He takes Keith’s jaw in his hands gently, and leans forwards to kiss his forehead. Despite the fragility of the action, he might’ve well rubbed sandpaper against Keith’s face.

“Lance,” he warns, sounding extremely strained.

“Right,” Lance says, moving away. As he reaches the door, he looks back at Keith one last time. “I worry about you, you know.”

“I know.”

Lance stares a moment longer. “I love you,” he says, before he turns and leaves. Keith stands still as he hears the three bolts on the outside of the door clank.

“I love you too,” he says to the empty air.

 

☽

 

It’s only about an hour or so later when Keith finds himself immobile on the cold cement floor, completely riddled with aches and pains. His bones grow slowly enough as to not pierce his skin, but no bruising isn’t guaranteed. There’s another reason that he refuses Lance’s presence when he transforms aside from worrying he’ll hurt him: warping into some god’s mockery of a creature is not graceful by any means.

Keith tastes blood as his already sharp teeth elongate further, exposing about an extra-half inch of bone. Soon his jaw will shift to accommodate for this; then the back pains, not long after that.

As he screams his agony out into the night, he can’t help but wonder if this is why people think werewolves howl.

 

☾

 

It’s not the sound of splintering wood out back that awakes Lance, but instead, the sound of the front door crashing off its hinges.

Bolting upright in bed and clutching his chest, Lance looks around the bedroom with wide eyes but sees nothing out of the ordinary. He stays very still, trying to listen for anything over the sound of his pulse pounding in his ears. Nothing seems to happen for a long while as the minutes drag on, but slowly a noise makes its way to his ears: the sound of chuffing, and shuffling across the floorboards.

Lance fumbles around in bed for a moment, unsure of what to do. Was this a home invasion? Did an animal break in? Or, perhaps, did Keith–

Lance almost refuses to acknowledge that as a possibility. No, he had been chained to the _cement_ floor. The shack had been bolted shut by three different locks. There’s no way–

A heavy thud sounds outside the hallway leading to the bedroom, a thud that sounds far too similar to a footfall. Something wasn’t right about the noise, though. Lance has never heard a footstep sound so heavy before, and he swears he heard an accompanying clacking, almost like an animal’s nails on the hardwood floor. In the end, despite all of Lance’s grievances with the mere idea, he knows that this intruder must be Keith.

Unsure of what to do, and panicking a little, Lance throws himself out of the bedsheets and under the bed. The noises only seem to get closer and closer, until they finally stop outside the closed bedroom door. As they approach, a noise that sounds like the dragging of chains becomes audible.

 _Keith would never hurt me,_ Lance tries to remind himself as he shakes in his hiding spot. He knows this to be a truth, and yet he still can’t help the fear that all but paralyzes him.

A baleful whine sounds from outside the door, which is immediately followed by a snuffling noise. The floorboards creak.

There’s a scrabbling sound, and then the door slowly creaks open. Lance’s eyes widen as he watches two grotesque feet enter the room. The complexion of the skin spread thinly over long, dog-like feet matches Keith’s, and the cuffs around his ankles match the ones out back. The implications that come with this have Lance shaking even more violently.

Long, sharp nails click across the floor as Keith seems to get his bearings. Lance hears, and feels, the bed creak above him as Keith leans over top of it. A foot lifts off the ground as he supports his weight on a knee. More sniffing, then shifting of blankets, then a long, steady inhale.

 _Maybe he just wants to sleep somewhere cozy,_ Lance thinks. _I_ knew _I should’ve left him a blanket or something._

As if to mock him, Keith’s foot reappears into view as he moves off the bed. Lance feels his heart rate kickstart into something unhealthily rapid again.

Keith shifts as if he’s going to make towards their closet, but pauses mid-motion. Quicker than Lance can blink, Keith drops to his knees and peers under the bed, making direct eye contact with Lance, before moving his chest up out of view again. Lance’s mouth goes dry, and in his shock he doesn’t move a muscle. He only caught a glimpse of it, but Keith’s face–

_Warped, abhorrent, unnatural–_

Keith’s still on his knees when he reaches a spindly limb under the bed, and starts groping around. Lance stutters back, and claps a hand over his mouth to stop from screaming.

If the foot is dog-like, however elongated it may be, this hand is nothing canine whatsoever. The palms are large, and the fingers are long, boney, and tipped with gleaming nails, sharp enough to resemble tiny blades. The nails, along with the chains bracketing his raw wrists click each time they grace the ground. The uncanniness of it all makes alarms _blare_ in Lance’s mind, his instincts telling him to _run, hide, flee; something is terribly wrong here._

The hand gets closer and closer every fruitless grope it makes, until it clasps around the forearm of the arm Lance is muffling himself with. Each digit of finger seems to close around him with an unsettling mechanical quality to it, as if Lance only had to peel back the skin to find clockwork resting underneath.

Before he can even think to pull away, scream, _do anything,_ Lance is being yanked forwards with what feels like unparalleled strength. Now, he yells.

He slides out from under the bed facing downwards. Keith stands above him, and Lance feels the weight of his stare bearing down on his back. Lance catches his breath, waiting for something to happen. When nothing does, he decides to turn around himself, dammit, he’s not a coward.

When he does, he immediately retracts his statement.

From his hands up, Keith’s forearms are wrongly slender to house such strength behind them. His upper arms are much the same story, save his hunched shoulders. Keith’s whole spine seems stretched longer and then bowed, curved inwards in a ‘c’ shape. His shoulders, while already broad, have become wider, and seem far too large, and therefore, far too heavy for the rest of his frame to support. Everything seems disproportionate.

It’s his lover’s disfigured face, however, that has Lance gasping. Keith’s eyes are unnaturally round, wide and blank. His twitching ears have been pulled to a jagged point. The bridge of his nose and jaw looks like they’ve been stretched forwards, as if a child tried to model a poor rendering of a dog’s muzzle onto his face. His lips are pulled thin, and in the pale light of the full moon, Lance can see glimpses of gleaming canines as Keith licks his chops.

Two large hands reach out to Lance, and he unintentionally flinches away in fear. This does not dissuade the hands in the slightest, however, as they scoop Lance up. The movement is very calculated though, as Keith is wary not to scratch him. The hold is gentle, almost impossibly so, but cold. Empty. Lance’s eyes are screwed closed, and have been since the minute the hands even gestured in his direction.

A moment later they’re through the bedroom door, and Lance listens as Keith shuffles down the hall. Keith almost seems too tall to fit. He still keeps Lance against his chest, cradled as if he’s something precious. Lance still refuses to look.

Lance realizes how bad he’s shaking as he feels his hands, which rest against his chest, vibrating infallibly in fear. Only when he feels a cold gust of wind hit is face does he open his eyes, and soon realizes that he’s looking at gap where their front door should be. Lance shakes harder.

“C-c-c…” A throaty noise from above grabs Lance’s attention. He looks up and almost immediately regrets it as he catches sight of Keith’s mangled face.

“Yu-you’re cold…” he hears again, and this time Lance forces himself to look up and remain looking up. Keith looks down at him, wide eyes ghostly. Lance swallows.

“W-what?” he asks.

“Sha-king. Shivers,” Keith tries. The way his jaw and lips move to annunciate is unsettling. “You are cold?” The sentence is structured like a statement, but the inflection in Keith’s voice leads Lance to believe otherwise.

“I–” Lance is unsure what to say. Does he admit to his fright?

Keith seems to make up Lance’s mind for him, however. “Cold,” Keith states, sounding resolute. He gently places Lance down, but keeps a hand around his forearm.

“Do not… go,” he rasps, before releasing Lance and taking off back to the bedroom. Lance stands completely still, minus the shivering. What does he do?

Clicking sounds out once again in the hallway as Keith exits the bedroom, a blanket in hand. It’s dark down the hall, and in this light, Keith looks even more terrifying, those wide eyes reflecting what little light there is. Lance tries to keep his breathing steady, but fails on the inhale.

Driven purely by fight or flight, Lance bolts out the door, not once looking back. He’s not sure where he’s going. There’s no destination in mind besides anywhere away from that monster.

Loud, crashing steps and the clanging of chains sound behind Lance, only driving him to run faster. No matter how hard he pushes himself, the splintering of undergrowth behind him only gets closer. He swears he can _feel_ breath on the back of his neck, and he cries out in terror.

He’s tackled from behind, and he goes down _hard._ He barely keeps from wacking his face off the ground, and he can feel his  palms being scraped open on the ground. He bites his tongue, and whimpers.

The weight on his back is constant, and all but suffocating. Lance feels the monster nose at the back of his neck, and he shudders. It begins to get up off of him, but Lance is given no opportunity to try to run again as it keeps a vice grip on his right wrist.

“I said,” the monster reprimands angrily, a bit of growl in its voice. Lance flinches, and tries to yank away.

“D-don’t,” Lance pleads, sounding pathetic even to his own ears. He’s shocked as he is not struck, or bitten, but instead a blanket is draped around him.

“Stop shaking,” the creature demands, sounding so close to Keith it hurts. Lance is scooped up once again. The hold is still gentle to a degree, but this time Lance can feel the possessiveness in his grip. As the monster whisks him away again, Lance feels his eyes grow wet. He holds his stinging hands to his chest, and tries to scrub the dirt off of them. He sniffles.

They’re travelling rather fast back towards the house, and as they bypass the building to head into the back yard, Lance feels a tear roll down his cheek. He’s not sure why he’s crying. Exhaustion, maybe.

The creature slows to a halt about five meters away from the shed, looking down at Lance, who looks stubbornly ahead. Slowly, a clawed hand moves down towards Lance’s face and thumbs away the tear, careful not to nick. It whines, and gently grabs his jaw and turns Lance’s head to look up at it. The monster’s expression is drawn taunt, concern haunting its eyes.

 _This isn’t what I expected a werewolf to look like,_ Lance thinks nonsensically. _It’s hardly wolf-like at all._

“Cold,” the creature says quietly, almost contemplative. It looks forwards, into the distance. Lance’s eyes do not dry.

The monster continues towards the shed, where Lance sees the door has been torn off its hinges (almost splintered to pieces in the process), and the remains of chains are strewn about all over the concrete floor. The beast places the door back where it should be, and gingerly sits down cross-legged. It places Lance into its lap, and wraps itself around him. It’s careful not to hurt, but its grip is tight. Possessive.

“Safe here,” it says, making sure the blanket is snugly around him. It presses its face into the crook of his neck and leaves it there.

Under the blanket, Lance wraps his own arms around himself, trying to find some comfort in Keith’s embrace.

“Until morning,” Keith mumbles, almost as if trying to explain himself.

Lance shuts his eyes against the onslaught of tears he feels coming.

 

☽

 

When Keith wakes in the morning, it’s to a drafty room and a body all but crushed under his.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there! Thanks for giving this a read. I know it's quite different from my other stuff, ehe.
> 
> For all of you waiting on a GOTS update, don't worry! It should be out soon. School has just been kicking my butt, so I haven't really had time to work on it. I hope this can hold you over for now!


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